The Rules According to Ron
by 2sidedstoryteller29995
Summary: The motto of the Chudley Cannons is "let's all just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best". There are no rules when it comes to parenting. You make it up as you go along. The key is to play to your strengths and that's exactly what Ron intends on doing.


'_I see what Mc Gonagall meant... you really are a natural.'- Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_

Ron was restless. It was the same every year. Hermione teased him that he was like a hibernating bear. Once spring rolled around, he would perk up. As the days grew longer, he grew more energetic.

Every year, he waited for the leaves to return to the trees with a sense of anticipation.

But this year was different. This year, he was not overly concerned with what was going on outside the window. He was far too preoccupied with other things; painting the walls of the nursery, putting up shelves, putting constructing a cot... It was a busy time for them. The birds in the trees were not the only ones nesting.

Every passing day brought them closer to Hermione's due date. He tried to stay busy in order to keep his mind occupied. He was excited, but every so often, that excitement would be temporarily replaced by a wave of panic. He was glad he had Hermione. He had been surprised to find that pregnancy mellowed her considerably. Some days, she would be like a very different girl to the one that he fell in love with. Not that he was complaining.

However, more recently, he had been able to see glimpses of her old self; the organiser, the co-ordinator, the perfectionist, and the researcher. He knew from experience that it was best to leave her to make the minor decisions. She was quite particular and knew exactly what she wanted. As she and the baby shared the one body, what she wanted was what the baby wanted too. She took it upon herself to voice these wants at various intervals.

According to her, bright orange walls were not wanted. Though, to be fair, she hadn't said anything about romper suits...

He had put up a bit of a fight, because the Chudley Cannons were his team, just as much as their baby was. However, in truth, so long as she was happy, he was happy. Ron was the kind of man who would do anything for some peace and quiet.

X

He definitely was not getting any tonight. His mind was buzzing. His body was tossing as he turned thoughts over in his mind.

The beginning of March brought with it another birthday. At twenty-six, they were still quite young. However, the passing of another year and the imminent birth of their little girl had set them both thinking. After some discussion, they had decided to consult with their lawyer and review their wills. They would make the necessary changes once their daughter made her entrance into the world.

Words like testament, estate and inheritance chased each other around his brain, making sleep impossible to come by. Eventually Ron decided to get up. The last thing he wanted was to disturb Hermione and if he tossed and turned for much longer, he would end up kicking her.

He contemplated going for a stroll to clear his head, but decided against it. Though Hermione was still four weeks away from her due date, he still thought it would be a good idea to stick around in case she needed him. Instead, he padded into the study, thinking that he might finish the shop's trading account.

It would do him good to forgo words in favour of numbers, if only for a little while. Seating himself at the desk, he lit his wind and dipped a quill in ink. He pulled the books towards him and laboured over them for a few minutes.

Eventually, he had to give up. It was impossible to concentrate.

X

He leaned back in the chair, running his hands through his hair and closing his eyes. He tried to distract himself by thinking of Quidditch. He found himself fifty feet off the ground, defending the goalposts from the opposing team with the wind whistling in his ears.

His opponent tried to get the Quaffle past him, but he fought back fiercely. However, the chasers were adamant to score. They were bombarding him. He was overwhelmed. His defence was weakening. He was struggling...

Suddenly, he was being called down to earth. Another player was replacing him. His team-member looked the same as he did. Her robes told him she was a Cannon, her hair told him she was a Weasley. She soared into the air, just as Ron was making his way to the stands to watch the rest of the game. Seeing her up there, flying so high and defending so well, Ron felt his heart soar. He was proud of her.

X

Ron awoke with a start. He expected to feel disorientated, but that was not the case. His mind was clear. He knew what he had to do. He put the ledger to one side, before taking a fresh piece of parchment from the desk-drawer. Picking up the quill, he began to write feverishly.

**Contract **

The following document details a written agreement between Ronald Bilius Weasley, his first-born daughter and any other children born to himself and Hermione Jean Granger throughout the course of their marriage.

From the moment of your conception, you will support the Quidditch team, which I, your father, support- The Chudley Cannons.

For your third birthday you will receive a toy broomstick and will begin to use said broomstick under the strict supervision of the aforementioned, Ronald Bilius Weasley

From that moment onwards, you will begin to develop an understanding and a respect for the Wizarding known as Quidditch.

For your fifth birthday, you will receive your first proper broomstick, as well as tuition as to the proper conduct when air-borne.

Once you have sufficiently mastered the art of flying, you will begin to learn to play the Wizarding game known as Quidditch. It is at this stage that you will become further immersed in the sport. You will attend matches regularly, rather than just watching family games in the orchard at The Burrow.

For your seventh birthday, you will be given the privilege of choosing your own team, which you will support, from that moment on, in their efforts to be top of the British and Irish Quidditch League. You will also be allowed to pick a particular position to play during matches.

For your ninth birthday, you will be given a broomstick that corresponds with your increasing maturity, skill, and size. Said model will be presented to you alongside a broomstick servicing kit. From that moment on, you will be responsible for the care and maintenance of your own broomstick.

At eleven years of age, you will begin to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Once there, you will commence further Flying Lessons, alongside your fellow students.

Once you have commenced your second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you may try out for your House team.

Please note:

The above contract is a basic and brief outline that may not apply in all situations.

In the unlikely event, that you will be unable to play Quidditch and or attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry then that will not present a problem because the above contract will become null and void.

This will also occur in the much more likely event that any offspring of Hermione Jean Granger take after her, in that they have no real interest in the sport of Quidditch or indeed flying itself.

If either situation does comes to pass, I declare that, I Ronald, Bilius Weasley shall continue to carry out my duties and responsibilities in relation to the rearing of the involved child, based on my love for them, rather than their love of Quidditch.

He was so engrossed in his writing, that he did not notice he had company. When his wife made her presence known by clearing her throat, he glanced up, startled. When he had recovered himself, he looked concerned. "Are you alright?

"I could ask you the same question," she muttered. When he continued to look at her with a worried expression on his face, she went on. "I'm fine, I just couldn't sleep." Ron nodded in understanding.

"How about you?" She moved closer to get a good look at him, catching sight of the parchment. Not waiting for him to reply, she picked it up.

Ron could not say that he minded. Many a time in the days, weeks and years following the war, Hermione had been in his shoes. Everyone had their own way of dealing with their own way of recovering from the trauma. Hermione found that the best way for her to deal with her grief was to write down their story, making sure that those who fought and died bravely would not be forgotten.

Many a night, when grief overwhelmed her and she could not sleep, she would get up and write. When morning came, her hands would ache, as would her head. Exhausted, she would be able to fall into bed and go to sleep. When she awoke, she would dress and find him. The two of them would sit together as she read the latest part of the story aloud. She needed someone to help her make changes, but most of all she needed someone to listen.

Each reading session left his eyes tearstained. He knew as well as anyone that innocence once lost can never be regained, however that did not stop his heart aching for it to return to him along with his brother.

X

Hermione instantly recognised her husband's handwriting. The ink on the parchment was barely dry. Every piece of evidence pointed out that Ron had written this, only moments ago. In one way they were his words and in another way they weren't. Ron would not be caught dead using this sort of language.

_Why would he write such a thing? _It did not make sense. _Unless... Unless he's cracked under the pressure and is going mad. _She tried to push the thought to the back of her mind, but it was hard to ignore. _Sane people did not write up contracts, or at least not contracts like this. _She was confused.

"Ron... What's this for?" For a moment, it looked like he himself did not know. But eventually, he got the words out.

"I'm rubbish at a lot of things. I am going to do my best to be a good father, but I can't make any promises... Except when it comes to Quidditch, that is." He looked up at Hermione, willing her to understand.

"Like I said, I can't make many promises. But I will promise to stick around, to spend time with her, and to love her." He blushed as he said it.

"I just thought it would be a good idea to lay down some ground-rules and boundaries before she gets here, because I want her to be safe and happy," he finished.

Hermione beamed at him. "I want that too." She paused. "I just have one question..."

Ron waited.

"Where do we sign?"

X

Hermione signed with a flourish. When she put the quill down, she used her hand to stifle a yawn.

"Bed-time," he murmured. Hermione could not agree more.

It was not long before they were both back in bed. Unfortunately, being sleepy and actually falling asleep were two very different things. Eventually, Hermione asked, "Do you mind if I read for a while?" When he nodded, she pulled out a copy of _What to Expect when You're Expecting_- a book that her Mum had given her, which had become her go-to guide for anything related to pregnancy.

As she opened it up, something occurred to him. He turned to her. "Do you want me to read to you?" She smiled. It was lovely that he wanted to be so involved; she could only hope he would show the same enthusiasm for changing nappies when the time came. She lay back against the pillows, handing him the book. He shook his head, before reaching into his bedside locker and pulling out a book of his own.

_You have your Bible, I have mine, _he thought. Hermione struggled to keep a straight face when she saw that he had chosen was _Quidditch Through the Ages. _

_That'll send me straight to sleep, _she thought.

As he began to read aloud, Hermione felt a sharp jab in her abdomen. It was so strong, that she gave involuntary wince. The sound caused Ron to look up at her in concern. He questioned her and she quickly explained, that no, she wasn't in labour. The baby was just kicking. He relaxed then. "Of course she is. I mean, what could be more exciting for our baby than Quidditch and books combined?" She smiled. She really hoped for Ron's sake that their baby was a Quidditch fan. _Nothing meant more to him than Quidditch. _

If she had cared to share her thoughts with her husband, he would have had to disagree. He loved Hermione. Winning her heart meant more to him than winning any match. His little girl was quite a bit smaller than any Quaffle, but he loved her more than any ball. He couldn't wait for her to hurry up and arrive so he could play with her. The three of them were going to make a great team.


End file.
